Even If It’s Depraved - Chapter 37

“Nngh…”

“Haah… Mother, your moans are so beautiful…”

Carlos whispered as if sighing, continuing to move his hips back and forth. The sound of his shaft rubbing against her folds was slick and wet.

A damp, obscene noise.

She wanted him to finish quickly so this perverse act could end, yet she couldn’t shake the pleasure that burned even at the corners of her eyes. Before she knew it, a small climax arrived, leaving her insides tingling. Brunhilde crumpled the sheets and let out a pained sob.

“Did you feel that, Mother?”

“Carl… Carl… please…”

Her already sensitive c**t continued to be stimulated, making her lower belly clench tight. Pleasure and frustration surged together, unbearable. Unable to hold herself up, Brunhilde bent her elbows, gasping for air.

Fortunately, Carlos was also close to his peak. His thighs twitched as he quickened his pace, a restrained cry escaping his lips.

“Mother…!”

“Carl—ahhh…”

“Haah—ngh! Ha—my Brunhilde…!”

He pulled his slick length almost all the way out, then pressed the tip firmly against her half-open, fluttering entrance. He was about to spill his desire onto his mother, her face half-buried in the sheets, her hips lifted.

But then—

Creak.

“…!”

The door, which had been open just a finger’s width, slid open a little more, with a faint noise.

Carlos’s violet eyes shot sharply toward the opening.

A pair of eyes, barely discernible in the darkness, peeked through the gap—then darted away.

“Hnngh…!”

A moment later, a delayed climax raced through his entire body. Between the tip of his shaft that stopped just before entering and her folds, thick white fluid dripped onto her mound.

Brunhilde, overwhelmed by the pleasure that came first, gasped for breath and half-collapsed.

Unlike usual, when he would have held his mother close, whispering sweet, affectionate words, Carlos dressed himself first.

Then, after briefly smoothing her disheveled hair as she gasped for breath, he hurried out of the room.

Striding quickly—almost running—down the dark corridor, he spotted a figure ahead, staggering and breathing in harsh, uneven bursts.

He moved faster and grabbed the person by the arm.

Olive-colored eyes, wide with fear, trembled as they met his. The look—shaken by terror and confusion—was all too familiar.

He studied those eyes quietly, then bent down gently, lowering himself as if to kiss her, meeting her gaze with a soft, sweet smile.

“Where are you rushing off to at this hour?”

“I—I…”

“Wife.”

The person was none other than Emily.

She looked up at her husband—just as beautiful and gentle as ever, if not more so—and struggled to catch her breath. Her flushed eyes throbbed, her pulse pounding so hard it seemed to echo in her skull.

The scene she had just witnessed flickered in her mind like a cruel hallucination.

What she had seen… how she had even managed to walk this far… Nothing made sense anymore. Each step she took, each breath she drew, felt distant, like she was trapped inside a dream.

She wanted to speak, but her lips trembled like someone drowning. All she could manage were small, broken sounds, like hiccups escaping her throat.

Meaningless, scattered fragments of breath.Her blinking grew erratic, her breathing unsteady. Slowly, her eyes began to fill with tears.

At last, a round tear slipped free and fell. Clutching his sleeve, she asked in a trembling voice,

“I… I saw wrong, didn’t I…?”

“What do you mean?”

His voice was calm, as though nothing had happened. Feeling the tear trail down to her chin, Emily’s face twisted.

“Just now… you and Lady Brunhilde…”

Her breath gave out before she could finish.

Biting her lip, she tightened her grip on his sleeve, then his wrist, as if clawing for something to hold onto.

Carlos gazed steadily at her tear-filled olive eyes. Then he smiled, even more gently, and spoke as if soothing her,

“Shh. It’s all right. Don’t tremble—just tell me properly.”

Looking at his composed, flawless face, she found it even harder to believe what she had seen. Lost in her confusion, she chose to deny it.

No… it couldn’t be true.

A man so perfect, almost angelic like him would never commit something so monstrous with his own mother. She forced a trembling smile onto her lips.

“N-no… I must have been mistaken…”

“Wife.”

“I-I’m sorry, husband. I… I must have been seeing things for a moment…”

“Well… if what you saw was me and my mother tangled together like beasts, then I’d say you saw quite clearly.”

“……”

His words came out so casually that, for a moment, she couldn’t even process them. Her head turned dizzy, as though she had been breathing in smoke for too long.

Emily stared blankly at her husband’s face. It was so familiar, yet suddenly so foreign.

Unaware of himself, Carlos reached out and caught his wife as tears continued to spill endlessly from her eyes.

Then, without hesitation, he opened the door to a nearby room and shoved her inside.